Time Warp
by 7thCentury
Summary: Yamamoto Takeshi is sent 10 years in the past to reverse a less-than-perfect future. He must ensure that his future never comes to be. He is pressed for time and must make sure that his younger-self does not repeat the same mistakes. 8059, YamaGoku.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

_Hi everyone! I'm not really sure how lively the 8059 fandom is anymore, but if you're reading this story, please know I have other chapters written and I am constantly updating and editing them. So expect updates! :)_**  
**

_If you would like to be a beta or have any ideas for this story, questions are welcome, too, just let me know!  
_

_Contents: TYL!80TYL!59, TYL!8059, 8059 (all are eventual, i guess?)  
_

* * *

The beginning or the end.

I open my eyes. It's quiet all around me. I sit up slowly. It's dark and I don't know where I'm at.

But I know when I am at, ten years into the past.

_"I don't know what will happen if I send you there. All I know is that you can't come back!"_

My mind starts to reel as this realization starts to really set in. I start to panic. My heart racing, I begin to shake in anger, fear, and pain. I try to calm myself down. I don't know how long I sit there for, but I finally pick myself up.

"Ouch," I mumble to no one in particular. Dried blood caked on my arms cracks and flakes off of my arms. That isn't my blood. My chin hurts so I put my hand up to it; I can feel the bone. My chin stings and I flinch as I draw my hand away, blood drips down my fingers down my wrist.

I close my eyes. And I cry.

* * *

Three years later.

* * *

I sit down on a stool at the sushi bar, it's near empty in Takesushi. There are a few men drinking at one of the tables on the main floor, but it's nearing closing time and the men are clearing out fast. From the corner of my eye, I watch Dad do a double-take as he approaches me to take my order. As he approaches, my insides twist and I have to breathe slowly to control my emotions. Times like these make me realize that my Dad, the Dad that I left in the future, may be suffering through a life without me or may not even exist at all. I wince inside but look up at Dad. He looks so young! The lines around his eyes and mouth are less harsh and deep than the last time I saw him. His hair does not have grey streaks nor does he look skinny or frail.

"I'm going to be closing up soon, but can I get you something to eat or drink before that time comes?" He looks at me, slightly apprehensive, as if he's looking or searching for something. Does he know that it's me?

I nod and make it look like I'm looking at the drink menu but I know Dad's menu like the back of my hand, "I'll take the Osaka Dry."

While mixing my drink, Dad calls over his shoulder at me, "I don't do this for anyone you know! I follow the rules and check all IDs. How old are you? 24, 25?" He puts the bottles away and walks around the bar, setting my drink down for me and sits on the stool next to me. He leans his elbow on the bar and looks me over.

"Mm, around that age," I absent-mindlessly answer, looking about the restaurant.

Dad asks, "You know, I have a son and he looks just like you. That's why I ask."

I laugh and say, "I always hear that from people. I guess I just have one of those faces."

Dad's eyebrow raises and he remarks seriously, "I don't think you have 'one of those faces.' Where does someone get such a scar?"

I smirk as I sip slowly from my drink. "That's quite the question, old man. I could ask you the same. Where did you get your scars?" With my free hand I motion to some fading lines across the back of his hands.

"Ah haha!" Dad's infectious laughter makes me smile, "do you know anything about the Asarigumi?" I shake my head 'no' but he presses me further, "I got my scars from sword fighting. You can't tell now, but back in my day, I was quite the skilled swordsman. I ask you if you know the Asarigumi dojo because you have the physique of a swordsman. Look, all of my cards are on the table. I'll admit you've captured my interest. I can't let someone walk away who looks like they've seen fights that would end others; there is something special about you."

My drink finished, I tilt the empty glass one side to another in my hand. I don't answer Dad, I think I miscalculated how much he really knew about fighting.

"Well, it's something. I'm caught up in the mafia," I judge his reaction as I talk.

He narrows his eyes, not sure what to believe. "The mafia's reverting back to sword fights and doing so in Japan?"

I laugh, "I don't think my father would believe it either."

Dad now laughs with me, "I'd put money on that," he leans in and tells me, "you don't have to tell me what you really do. I get business men in here that tell me they're the CEO of some big corporation, yeah right. So, don't feel pressured to tell me your real job." He leans back and laughs once more, "let me get you another drink. But, uh, what did you say your name was?"

I decide to press my luck, "My family name is Yamamoto."

My dad's pouring another Osaka Dry and he spills some, exclaiming, "Why, that's my family name! Do you have family in this area?"

I look like I'm thinking about his question, but instead I answer, "I don't think so. I'm only doing business here."

"Oh, okay. Well, any Yamamoto, related or not, is welcome here anytime, haha!" Dad's good nature shines and I thank him.

He pardons himself after a while to escort a few men out and locks the door. We talk for about an hour until he asks one last thing, "why don't you come back another time and meet my son. I feel like you two could be brothers. And if you come back, will you try some sparring with me?" He flexes his arms and says, "I still got some fight left in me yet!" We both roar with laughter and I agree, I tell him I will be back soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

_If you would like to be a beta or have any ideas for this story, questions are welcome, too, just let me know!  
_

_Contents: TYL!80TYL!59, TYL!8059, 8059  
_

* * *

I leave Dad's bar, my body buzzing pleasantly from the alcohol. I decide to walk to my apartment, within the same district. The walk is uneventful. It's almost midnight.

I fish my apartment keys out of my briefcase. I fumble with the door and key and laugh to myself because I know I'm not that drunk. Once I enter my apartment, I immediately hang up my blazer and take off my shoes.

My small apartment consists of a small hallway which opens into an open kitchen, small dining area, and living room. A single bed and bath is off through the kitchen. My decorations are sparse; a katana hangs up in the dining area, a crest of the Vongola Famiglia in the living room, and baseball paraphernalia is scattered around the apartment.

When I arrived into the past, all I brought was the things on my person. I had a wallet, katana, Vongola ring, cell phone and a few weapons from my time. It took a lot of convincing at my part even with these artifacts to prove to the Vongola who I really was. They had a hard time accepting that the 11-year-old kid in Japan was going to be a Guardian for the family in the future. They ran background checks on the 11-year-old me in Japan and did tests on myself.

I open the fridge in search of a milk carton. I feel successful as I find a carton behind a pack of beer. I shut the fridge and sit down at the dining table.

I spent a year working with members of the Vongola. They didn't send me to Japan until I was well past my 22nd birthday. In this time I helped innovators recreate technology from my era. With the direction of my cell phone and weapons, those individuals were able to recreate a few different items. I received training in information technology, computer programming and various related areas.

And so, to make up for lack of decor in my apartment, I have lots of technology filling empty spaces. Perhaps I shouldn't call it a dining table since a supercomputer spans across the width of the table. For the last year, I have been tracking three people: Sawada Tsunayoshi, Hayato Gokudera, and Takeshi Yamamoto, now all aged 14-years-old.

Using facial recognition, I have been able to tap into cameras on stop-light intersections, building security, cameras, and etc. to track those three. Despite how creepy I feel using these tactics, I wouldn't be able to figure out their exact locations. Tsuna was easy; he lives at home and his life follows a habitual pattern. My younger-self, is a little more complex. With sports team, tutoring, and outside activities, I am not sure where I end up sometimes. Hayato Gokudera, on the other hand, has no set home and has no set schedule. He goes where he wants, when he wants. He is in search of the Tenth. Hayato Gokudera has been in Japan for about three months now.

The computer notifies me that I have five new notifications. Two of Tsuna, two of Yamamoto, and one of Gokudera. I click fast through the others but pause when I get to Gokudera. I sip from my milk slowly and open the notification. It's a picture of Gokudera in a convenience store. He's buying cigarettes. My stomach knots like it always does and I feel uneasy as I view the picture.

I feel this way because Hayato Gokudera from the future is dead.

I recline in the small wooden chair and put my feet on the other chair. I lounge in the chair and stare at the photo. I compare Gokudera's face to the face I knew in the future. His face is less angular, he's shorter, and less well dressed.

A lot of time has passed since the last time I have seen Hayato and it scares me that I cannot remember Hayato in the ways I really want to. After a shower I ask myself, what did his hair look like after he got out of the shower? I pass someone out on the street smoking and I wonder also, what did Hayato's cigarettes smell like? I'm losing memories of Hayato slowly.

During my first year with the Vongola in the past, there would be days when I was immobilized by panic attacks, not able to move, not able to breath, just because I would forget about some dumb thing about Hayato and when I could not remember, I would be rendered useless. I would wake up in the middle of the night, frightened and sweaty, looking around for Hayato only to cry out in rage when reality set in once more. I counted each empty, void day without Hayato.

I'll have good days now, but I will also have bad days. Three years doesn't dull the pain, although it dulls my memory. But I feel that I'm reaching some sort of apex in my journey. Or at least, I'm going to initiate it. I have been living my life in anticipation. I've been more adventurous lately. Hence my first encounter with Dad. For one reason or another, I've been hesitant to reach out to my Dad, Gokudera, and myself. Even though I know I won't start some weird time paradox, I've been kind of hesitant about it.

After three years of preparation, I, Takeshi Yamamoto at the age of 24, am prepared to change the past and fix the future for myself, Hayato Gokudera, and the rest of the Vongola Famiglia.

My milk carton is empty, it proves to be fruitless as I slurp from the empty carton.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:**

_Back with the third installment.  
_

_Contents: TYL!80TYL!59, TYL!8059, 8059  
_

* * *

A few weeks later.

* * *

I wake up early. And decide, today is the day. I am going to intervene into Hayato Gokudera's life.

I suit up. I literally do.

I decide to wear one of my finer suits from Italy, hand-stitched and everything. I'm not usually one to wear super expensive nice clothes. After years of baseball I would habitually wear clothes thrown on the floor with grass stains over and over again. I would generally have no problem going to practice and wear the same clothes the next day. So at lease I have changed my habits since then to accommodate this suit. At first I refused the offer to have a suit made for me but the Ninth insisted that I had at least one nice outfit since I left everything in the future.

The silky material fits my body perfectly and I watch myself in the mirror as I knot my tie. I pull the knot tight and then smooth my hand over my hair nervously. I'm starting to psych myself out.

I inhale and force a smile in the mirror. Time to get going.

I lock my apartment door and stick my keys into my brief case. It's a brisk spring day. There's still a bit of winter chill in the air but not enough to call for a coat. Whistling, I walk down the stairs of my apartment and begin the day.

After walking for a bit, I arrive in the neighborhood Gokudera resides. It is Saturday and I have a pretty good idea of where to find Gokudera. He's been having trouble lately paying his rent. He's made multiple visits to the bank and rarely goes to his apartment.

I decide to stop in a cafe and wait. I order a drink and seat myself by the window. I sit here for an hour or two. I've had all the time in the world, why feel rushed now?

And then I see him across the street.

His clothes falling off of his frame because they're too big. Narrow limbs and a sharp voice, it could only be him. My heart stops and my chest hurts incisively. My whole body, my entire being, aches for him. I gather my things and exit the cafe.

I painstakingly push my sunglasses further up on my nose and then busy myself with straightening my tie. I grip my brief case tightly and feel the sweat slide between my palms and the leather handle. I clench and unclench my hand. Daring, I follow behind Gokudera slowly.

He walks into a small convenience store. I dart across the street and follow him in. Inside, he approaches the front counter. I head to the back of the store, near the refrigerated items but watch him from the convex mirror in the corner of the store. It looks like he's trying to buy cigarettes. I try to make it look like I'm browsing the dairy aisle but my attention is really on Gokudera. It looks like he's having trouble.

"You don't look like you're twenty years old..." I can hear the store keeper question Gokudera.

"Look, I forgot my I.D." He's not going to be turned down.

The store keeper sighs, "You don't look a day over 15 years old. I can't let you buy cigarettes here."

I watch Gokudera's shoulders bristle in anger but he hunches his shoulders and says quietly, "Well, you've lost my business."

The store keeper warns him, "I'm letting you go now, next time I'll call the cops."

As Gokudera slinks out of the store, I pick a box of milk and pay for it. The store keeper asks me, "Nerves of these kids, huh?"

I shrug and mindlessly agree with him but my mind is on other things.

* * *

The sun has set.

I've trailed after Gokudera all afternoon. After the convenience store, he had stopped at an ATM and after a few frustrating minutes, crumpled up a receipt and promptly dropped it on the ground. I picked it up. The balance was zero.

Still frustrated, his tirade continued for a while. He would look around every once and a while. But he would stop at each stop he would at one place or another he would try to bum cigarettes off of people or ask for money. Kind of sad, really.

And now with the sun down, it's dark out. I'm tired of this game so every once in a while I turn a corner after him or follow closer. This continues until he definitely notices me. His patterns change. He looks over his shoulder, searching for me as he strides across an empty street, into an emptier city park.

I follow a good distance behind him. But I start to lose him.

My pace faster, I try to catch up. But I lose sight of him.

But suddenly:

"What do you want from me?" A voice hisses in the dark, "I know you're following me, you aren't discreet about it in the least." I turn, trying to listen from where Gokudera's voice is coming from.

I frown. "Is that so?"

There's silence until he answers, "Everyone was looking at you. I mean, dressed like that. You'd have to be some of idiot to not notice everyone looking at you. Especially women," ah, women, that's a topic Gokudera doesn't enjoy, "they see some tall guy in a fancy suit and they're all looking at him." It's like he's scoffing, disdain in his voice.

"Were you looking at me too?" I joke with him but he bristles with anger.

"Shut up. I could kill you. Right here, right now," now his voice comes from another place in the dark.

"No, no, no!" I throw my hands up in alarm, all jokes aside. My briefcase falls to the sidewalk, "let me explain!"

I stand in silence, every nerve in my body fires in anticipation, for an attack. I wait for him to speak again, "...Why should I let you?" Ah, there. I have him pin pointed in the dark.

"I'm not a hit man. If anything, I'm on a research mission. I've just been doing research. I've followed you because you are getting too close to me."

"Che, what makes you think you know anything about you-" I dart quickly as he wonders out loud. I move quickly. I'm behind him and I grab both his hands in one motion, pinning them behind his back. My other arm wraps around his abdomen and pulls him close, disabling movement. He struggles against me, "What the fuck?! What are you doing?! Release me now!" I only hold him closer. "I have weapons. I'm going to use them. I swear to God I am going to use them." I squeeze his wrists together forcefully, he cries out and tries to cover it up by bluffing further, "Look, you're messing with the wrong guy! If you did your research, you would know that I have powerful connections."

I hold him against me for what seems like minutes until his body goes limp; he doesn't fight. His head barely reaches my shoulders. Without thinking I find my nose buried into his hair, I mean, after three years without Gokudera I am at my wits end. "...Fuck!" his cry breaks me out of my trance, "look, I don't know what you want. Just don't touch me! Is it money you want? I don't look like it but I have money! My dad has money!" I feel the muscles of his back, tense and strained. I slowly reposition the hold, I place him into a single arm wrist lock, but wrap both hands around his skinny arm. I look like a giant compared to his petite frame.

"You have dynamite in your sleeves, you have sewn it into the seam, in your pockets, and in your shoes."

"Aw, damn! What? What do you know? What are-"

I cut him off, I apply pressure downwards on his wrists and he cries out. "If you try anything, if you ignite anything, this is not going to end well. I want you to put on a change of clothes for that reason. The spare clothes are in my briefcase."

It's silent. We stay like this for what again seems like forever. I breathe heavily, all of my emotions are at their height. I can feel Gokudera's chest pound-pound-pounding. But with a certain stillness he whispers now, "You can let go of my wrist. I'm not going to run."

I'm interested but I don't let it show, "How do I know that?"

"You have my weapons and you are clearly a better fighter. If I ran, you could easily catch me. You are an athlete or at the least athletic. And to catch me like that in the first place, I hate losing but I have played out every possible way to escape or attack and they all end in defeat." His voice is low and calculating. Knowing even that the 14 year old Gokudera is one of the greatest strategists, I let the hold of his wrists go. He rubs them together gingerly.

My release on his wrist loosens and I allow him to remove his clothes. He now stands in his underwear. "What do you want me to do now, idiot?"

"Open the briefcase," I reply wearily. I couldn't imagine what the scene had to look like. A 24-year-old man holding a 14-year-old in a captive hold forcing him to strip. That wouldn't be explainable to the police. Gokudera hesitates before opening the latches, when he works up the courage to open it, inside lays a simple shirt and loose jeans. "Put them on," I urge him. He surprises me by complying, he puts on the clothes.

I squat down to pack his clothes into my suitcase as he dresses. I snap it shut before he finishes. I stand up and apologize, "I'm sorry it's like this. I don't think you would have agreed to talk to me or say anything in any other circumstance. I'm glad that we're both able to reach an agreement though!"

He seems defeated when he says simply, "I'm just tired of running."

I'm taken back by his honesty. The 14-year-old Gokudera that I knew was never like this. I wonder if my entire technique is overkill.

He continues, "I really don't know you. I don't get what you mean when you say I'm getting too close to you. I know you picked up my bank statement. Why do you even care?" He finally turns toward me. He examines my face and looks my body up and down. "Who are you?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:**

_Fourth installment of Time Warp!  
_

_Contents: TYL!80TYL!59, TYL!8059, 8059_

* * *

Gokudera inspects everything in my apartment. Every once in a while he stops to scoff at some decoration. I turn away because I can't bear to look at him. Three years without seeing Gokudera, being in his presence suddenly, I had almost forgotten his mannerisms and quirks. Time was slowly warping my memories.

"Basically you're stuck in the past, huh?" I glance at him but his back is turned away from me. "What am I like, in the future, that is?"

I ponder my response a while before responding, "I don't feel like it's my right to tell you."

He gives me a look of reproach, "Why not?"

"What if you alter some time line and never become like him or what if you hear about him and try to become exactly like him? Is the very definition of you lost at that point?"

He blinks and asks, "Jeez, I was just wondering."

I laugh and say, "I was just joking. I don't think it works like that, really. Time, I mean."

He makes a noise of disapproval and asks, "What are you doing back here again? Like, didn't you figure everything else? You can just go back."

"It's not that simple," I snap back at him but catch myself, "Sorry, let me explain myself. This might be a long story, do you mind?"

Gokudera shakes his head 'no' and sits himself down on my couch. He does ask, "Can I light up?"

I feel like my landlord might not appreciate it but I point at a smoke detector and ask him to disable it. He does so and sits back down on the couch, "Please," he prompts me, "Enlighten me as to why you have abducted me into your apartment. I want to hear the story."

"Tsuna is no longer the Decimo Candidate. After explaining ten years of history, the executive decision to raise Xanxus as the Decimo Candidate was made. Time travel itself is simple, really. When you are sent into the past, you exist at your current age and the time-you-were-sent-back-to age. So simply, when I arrived here I was 21 years old and I co-existed with my 11-year self."

"From this research I have done, I have had no reason to suspect that talking to myself or making myself known to my 12-year-old self would create any time paradoxes or create a butterfly effect.

"You see, I had tickets to Hokkaido that the baseball team manager had given to the younger me. I kept them in my sock drawer for safe keeping before the national championships. Since it was my past, I knew that 12-year-old me and Dad were in the back of Takesushi most nights. After making sure the younger me was prepping the shop for the next day, I used my set of keys to open our family apartment. I replaced my original tickets with another set to six hours ahead. Being counterfeited, I knew any receptionist at the travel agency would not take them. I had to wait for the day of the flight, but when it came, I realized that when my younger-self was stopped at the ticket counter, I should have arrived in Hokkaido at that point. Already my memories were different. With my experiment with the ticket to Hokkaido, I did not remember missing my reservation. In my memories, I made the flight at 7:00am and had no problems what-so-ever making it to Hokkaido and competing in the nationals for baseball.

"Younger-me still took the late plane and made it to Hokkaido. I had a ticket myself and trailed along. At the championship, I observed my younger self, I watched Coach place me in 2nd batting place and not 4th place. For clarification, 4th place is in hopes for a home run; batters #1 through #3 load the bases and #4 brings in the home run. I remember that I scored the home run, but in this timeline after the late arrival, Coach punished me by placing me in #2 batting place.

"So I concluded such: any new events that my 12-year-old self experienced, I did not remember. We could be on entirely different time lines. My world, my memories, my life is separate from your time. I have no proof or evidence whether or not my present self, the 12-years older-me, Takeshi, exists but without me or if I am the only remnants of the past, and the current timeline, Yamamoto, will replace the future while I, Takeshi, will exist in this new timeline, with Yamamoto erasing the previous future. I do not know how to test this hypothesis and I really do not think that I can with the technology or intelligence that I have.

"That's why I have this computer. It's helping me at least test out things and try and make things clearer," I point to the computer that takes up the entire dining table.

Gokudera exhales slowly and waves the smoke away from his face. "What kind of experiments are you doing now? That computer clearly has higher capabilities than any other computer I've ever seen."

"Well... like I've said. Even though this is more advanced technology, it was engineered by someone else."

"Yeah, I figured that," Gokudera cuts me off, "but like, what are you doing now? So if this Tsuna guy isn't the Decimo Candidate any longer, shouldn't it be problem solved? What role do I play? You obviously knew that I was here looking for the intended Decimo Candidate, Tsuna, but you have changed that fact. Somehow a decision was made in the Vongola that I didn't hear about. So here I am in Japan. Looking for this guy and he's not even a part of the plan, is that right?"

"Yeah, that's right."

He looks stumped until he blurts out, "Ah, fuck. I must be really hated for the Vongola to not even tell me. My own family hates me and even the Vongola hates me. So now they have you, some kind of future agent Mafioso man from the future tying loose ends by finally stopping me from this wild goose chase. I'm on a wild goose chase now basically. Is that how it is?"

I try to reason with him, "Gokudera, that's not right. Look, I don't know how you ended up here. Someone should have told you but somehow you slipped between the cracks. I mean, I should have contacted you but I wasn't sure how to go about that."

"How stupid could you be? Thanks for all of this then," he says sarcastically. "I'm not able to pay rent and I hate this place. Everyone's so polite with all their bowing and formal speech and everything else. The food's expensive and I can't get cigarettes. Thanks a lot for all of this, Yamamoto." Then he he says quietly, "_Vaffanculo_."

I start to get mad, "Don't you tell me to fuck off! I am doing all this shit to make sure your life isn't ended like last time!"

He's equally as mad, "Why do you even care?" And then he says, "Wait, what do you mean ended?"

Now Gokudera is struck by a certain realization: "Why didn't you tell me I'm dead in your time? Why did you keep this from me? You've known for years! All this time you've been in the past! Don't you think I should have known?"

"When was I supposed to tell you, Gokudera?" There's an edge to my voice and my heart breaks all over again.

"I don't know, maybe before I came all the way to fucking Japan?" His voice raises and his anger flashes.

"No one knew where you were at!"

"How the fuck could you keep something like that to yourself!?"

"I'm trying to save you, Gokudera!"

He screams at me: "Just how selfish are you, you bastard?!"

My heart breaks.

He yells and yells at me. I am dazed and can't think. My head buzzes with anger, frustration, contempt.

I snap out of my absent-mindedness the instant Gokudera's fist collides with my nose.

"Aw shit! Gokudera! What the fuck?!" I quickly put him in a headlock, his smaller size and my anger giving me the advantage. Blood seeps slowly from my nose and bleeds down my neck, down the front of my shirt, onto Gokudera. "You never listen, I could talk and talk and talk and talk and your anger and temper would keep you from listening. You would tell me it's not so and defy me in every single way possible." He starts to protest, "No! Listen to me. Just listen!"

I struggle to stay composed. After three years of waiting, planning, frustration, and solitude, I'm afraid I can't keep my temper in control any longer.

My voice breaks and I finally cry, "You can not tell me that I'm selfish. How dare you? You do not understand the magnitude of this situation. So what if you are dead in the future? That is not who you are! Who you are now is alive, full of promise and a long life. Gokudera, you have the chance at a successful, happy life." After three long years, I cry again. I can't stop the emotions. My face is a mess. Snot, tears, and blood covers my lips and chin and gets on Gokudera. "G-gokudera, I came back here for you. You are so smart, so intelligent. How could your life be cut short at 21 years? That's not fair to the Tenth, to you, ... or me."

He is crying too. Silent but I can feel him shake. "Why? Why, Takeshi? Why would you do that for me?"

"Gokudera, you aren't going to want to know why."

"I'm fucking listening for once, tell me!"

I sigh and give up, "I was in the most dire situation. We were all hunted down and exterminated. Not killed, exterminated. Gokudera, they hunted us down one by one, I watched my friends, co-workers, family get slaughtered. In the future, you are my family. Not just in the Vongola, it's more than just that. We worked together but it was so much more than that. We had a home together. I mean, I would have baseball or work for the Tenth. You were always away, too, but when we had time, we lived together because we loved each other."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:**

_Rated M!  
_So... If you're offended by Gokudera being 14, I'm sorry that I'm not sorry. Don't read it then. :U

* * *

He cries, "Are you serious? I don't even know the 14-year-old you."

"Then keep it that way! The Tenth can handle it by himself. Right now, the new Decimo Candidate is handling all situations and being trained properly. I am going to keep you away from the younger-me and from the Tenth."

Gokudera distances himself from me. He is silent. I don't speak or try to press him.

We sit in silence for minutes before he clears his throat and says:

"I... uh... I suppose... you know how I feel about girls."

"Yes, Gokudera."

"So I really acted upon it? I'm with a guy in the future?"

"Yeah."

"And it's you?"

"That's right."

He presses his fingers against the bridge of his nose as if his headaches terribly. He groans. "It's really you?"

I nod and cross my arms and lean back in the couch. I watch him from the corner of my eye.

He melodramatically lays a forearm across his eyes and groans again and says in one breath, "Oh my god I love a baseball-loving future-man who has come back to the past because I've died in the future and I am stuck in Japan on a wild goose chase and I just used my last cigarette."

I roll my eyes and let him pout.

I get up from the couch and go to the kitchen to get a drink. I take out a glass from the cupboard and turn on the water from the sink. I fill up the glass and lean against the kitchen counter as I sip slowly. I hear Gokudera, "Hey, you got any cigarettes...? I really need one."

I ask him if I leave to buy him a pack, if he'll stay or if he'll run. He tells me he has no where to go. He tells me the brand of cigarettes he wants and I leave to go buy them.

Walking to the convenience store, my mind won't stop running.

At the store, I buy a pack of cigarettes for Gokudera but as I checkout my items, I spy the brand that Hayato always smoked. I ask for a pack of those too.

As the clerk hands them to me I wonder: "What if I always buy these for Gokudera and I'm stuck in some time loop? I'm always destined to go back in time. Somehow I'll die in this timeline and it'll end up the same and I'm stuck in a loop forever and ever and ever and..."

"Sir? Sir, here's your change."

"...Ah, thanks."

* * *

I get back to my apartment.

"Hey, Yamamoto. Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course. Just let me put these down," I motion to the cigarettes and take off my shoes. I set them down on the kitchen counter and sit back down on the couch with him.

He won't look me in the eyes and clears his throat, "I've been giving a lot of thought about how you and I are together in the future. And I, uh, found the picture of you and me that you brought from the future."

"You went through my things?"

"Look, I'm sorry, but if someone's telling me that they love me, even if it's the future me, it's still me. And, I gotta be honest with you, no one has loved me in a long time. I know that I, uh, uh..." His face turns dark red as he speaks, "ah, fuck. I don't know how to say it without sounding like a girl. But you know I left Italy and I'm here to find the Tenth and like... make my own journey. And... really, uh... no one has shown me love since... my mother... died."

I am not pleased that Gokudera was looking through the few possessions I brought with me to the past. But instead of anger, I tell Gokudera to wait for a second. I go into my bedroom and pull the picture out from my desk drawer carefully, I make a point not to touch the glossy side of the photo.

I sit next to Gokudera and let him look at the photo but I say, "Please, if you want to look at it, do so, but it's special to me. It's the last memory, the last piece of Hayato that I have." I pass it to him slowly and look at it with him.

In this photo, Hayato and I are both 19-years-old. We had gone to a formal ball accompanying the Tenth. In the picture we wear nice tuxes and our hair and skin are clean and groomed well. I have him in my arms, held close to my chest, my face is turned slightly, cheek is buried into his hair. We both smile at the camera. Hayato's green eyes from the photo seem to look straight at me now and I have to swallow to clear the lump forming in my throat.

Every time I look at this photo I want Hayato. I want to be with him, I want him to be with me, I want to be in the future, I want to be in the past.

I want to be nowhere.

"...so happy."

Gokudera's soft voice makes me look up at him. A troubled look overcomes his face.

I force myself to speak, "what did you say?"

"You're so happy in that photo!" Gokudera is red in the face and exclaims, "I mean, I am too in that photo, but I have never seen you smile like that! You look so happy in that picture of us!"

"Yeah, I was pretty happy back then. I thought I had it all," I stop and look at the TV, but I am really looking past it seeing my life unfold in front of my eyes. He is right. I haven't smiled in a long time. I used to be so happy and now... everything is so different. It took so long to break down Hayato's defenses. I broke them all down and he let me into his life. I spent so much time building our relationship up and then... what did it lead to? Hayato is gone now and all of my efforts are just wasted!"

My erratic thoughts stop as Gokudera says, "It's not wasted."

My breath quickens, Gokudera presses himself against me. His thin fingers trace the scar on my chin and I shiver.

His lips press against mine. They are soft and full, not marred by bitterness or years of fighting. They are slightly open as they press against mine. He forces me further into the kiss. For a brief second his teeth graze my lips and he offers a rushed apology between the time it takes him to put his lips back to mine.

It's the kiss of an inexperienced teenager. In my head I recognize that it doesn't feel right.

Without thinking, my hands are under his shirt. My hands feel large across his thin back. My hands clench at his skin as he bites at my lips.

_"Oh Takeshi, it's been too long. Come into bed now."_

His arms wrap around my shoulders. He now kisses my neck. My hands roam and search his the front of his body, lightly brushing over his little, perky nipples. His voice is breathless as he complains, "Not there..."

_"How long has it been, Hayato? Two weeks, three weeks?"_

He slides his petite frame into my lap. It feels like his hands are restless, feeling my body and touching me, but not in the experienced way I was once used to.

_"The Tenth has kept me away for too long. Now let's get those clothes off of you, Takeshi..."_

I shake myself out of my stupor when I realize Gokudera is trying to unzip my pants.

"Gokudera! Stop it!"

_"Hayato, I love you."_

"I thought you wanted this!"

_"Aahh, just like that, Ta... Takeshi..."_

Conflicted, I say, "Yes... no! I can't... look, no. You're only... fourteen..." I distance myself from him and run my hands through my hair in agitation.

"I'm still Hayato!" This statement floors me. I force myself to think that it is still the man I built my life around.

"But you're..."

"Stop thinking about it that way! I am Hayato Gokudera!"


End file.
